


「The Little Witch」

by great_ben_810



Category: Little Witch Academia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 17:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_ben_810/pseuds/great_ben_810
Summary: The Little Prince parody





	1. I

Once when I was six, I saw a peculiar picture in a book about gourmets, called  _Delicacies of the World_. It showed an Alaska pollock, a lot longer than my middle finger. Here is a copy of the picture.

In the book, it said: “Alaska pollock roe, which typically are about eleven centimeters long with a diameter of one centimeter, is spiced with powdered red pepper and surrounded by a thin, elastic membrane. It is usually pink to dark red and can contain over one hundred thousand eggs.”

In those days, I thought a lot about gourmets, and eventually managed to make my first drawing, using a colored pencil. My drawing Number One looked like this:

I asked the grown-ups my masterpiece, and I asked them if my drawing made them hungry.

They answered, “Why get hungry over a bloody slug?”

My drawing was not a picture of a bloody slug. It was a picture of an Alaska pollock roe with one hundred thousand eggs. Then I drew the inside of the Alaska pollock roe, so the grown-ups could understand. They always need explanations. My drawing Number Two looked like this:

The grown-ups advised me to put away my drawings of Alaska pollock roe, outside or inside, and apply myself instead to geography, magical history, arithmetic, and grammar. That is why I abandoned, at the age of six, a magnificent career as an artist. I had been discouraged by the failure of my drawing Number One and of my drawing Number Two. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is exhausting for children to have to provide explanations over and over again.

So then I had to choose another career, and I learned to draw blueprints as a research engineer. I have built my own flying contraptions and have flown almost everywhere in the world without the use of a broom. And, as a matter of fact, geography and arithmetic have been a big help to me. I could tell what country I was flying through and whether I would need another wrench, which is very useful if you get lost at night with no idea of how long you’ll be lost for.

So I have had, in the course of my life, lots of encounters with lots of serious people. I have spent lots of time with grown-ups. I have seen them at close range… which hasn’t much improved my opinion of them.

Whenever I encounter a grown-up who seemed to me all enlightened, I would experiment on him with my drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I wanted to see if he really understood anything. But he would always answer, “That’s a bloody slug.” Then I wouldn’t talk about Alaska pollocks, gourmets, or stars. I would instead show him my blueprints riddled with numbers and measurements because grown-ups like numbers and measurements. He would always answer, “That’s a flying Roomba!” And my grown-up was glad to know such a reasonable person, but I was a bit sad for becoming a reasonable person.


	2. II

So I lived all alone, without anyone I could really talk to, until I had to make a crash landing in the Forest of Arcturus six years ago. Something in my roomba’s Sorcery Solution System had broken, and since I had neither a mechanic shop nor electricity nearby, I was preparing to undertake the difficult repair job by myself. For me it was a matter of life or death: I had only enough instant ramen for eight days.

The first night then, I went to sleep on the moss a thousand miles from any sane country. I would rather be stranded in the Sahara Desert than in the Forest of Arcturus because no witch would dare to voluntarily set her feet here. So you can imagine my surprise when I was awakened at daybreak by a funny little voice saying, “Please…draw me a heart…”

 “What?”

 “Draw me a heart…”

I leaped up as if I had been struck by Murowa. I rubbed my eyes hard. I stared. And I saw an extraordinary little fellow staring back at me with red, passionate eyes. Here is the best portrait I managed of her, later on. But of course, my drawing is much less attractive than my model. This is not my fault. My career as an artist was discouraged at the age of six by grown-ups, and I had never learned to draw anything except Alaska pollock roes, outside and inside.

So I stared wide-eyed at this apparition. Don’t forget that I was a thousand miles away from any sane country. Yet this little fellow seemed to be neither lost nor dying of exhaustion, hunger, or thirst; nor did she seem scared of death. There was nothing in her appearance that suggested a child lost in the middle of a magical forest a thousand miles away from any sane country. When I finally managed to speak, I asked her, “But…what are you doing here?”

And then she repeated, very slowly and very nonchalantly, “Please, draw me a heart”

In the face of overpowering mystery, you don’t dare disobey. Absurd as it seemed, a thousand miles from all inhabited regions and in danger of death, I took a scrap of paper and pen out of my pocket. But then I remembered that I had mostly studied geography, magical history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little fellow (rather crossly) that I didn’t know how to draw abstractly.

She replied, “That doesn’t matter. Draw me a heart.”

Since I had never drawn a heart, I made her one of the only two drawings I knew how to make—the one of the Alaska pollock roe from the outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow answer: “No! No! I don’t want an Alaska pollock roe with one hundred thousand eggs inside. An Alaska pollock needs seawater, and one hundred thousand eggs would get in the way. Where I live, there’s no ocean and everything is small. I need a heart. Draw me a heart.”

So then I made a drawing.

She looked at it carefully, and then said, “No. This one is fragile. Make another one.”

I made another drawing. My friend gave me a kind, sad smile.

“You can see for yourself…this one is too strong. It wouldn’t let anyone in.”

So I made my third drawing—one with anatomical labels.

But it was rejected, like the others:

“This one’s too cold. It wouldn’t beat for anyone else.”

So then, impatiently, since I was in a hurry to start work on my Sorcery Solution System, I scribbled this drawing, and added, “This is just the person. The heart you want is inside.”

But I was amazed to see my young critic’s face light up.  “That’s just the kind I wanted! Do you think this heart will believe?”

“Why?”

“Because where I live, a believing heart is important.”

“Why is it important?”

She pulled her eyes away from the drawing and grinned at me.

“Why? Because it’s my magic!”

And that’s how I made the acquaintance of the little witch.  


End file.
